


we'll meet again

by noahloveszombies (orphan_account)



Category: Team Fortress 2, The Last of Us
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Infected Scout, Sniper is taking jobs in the Quarantine Zone to kill people's infected family members, like... HEAVY angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 03:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21092744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/noahloveszombies
Summary: don't know where, don't know when... but i know we'll meet again, some sunny day.





	1. Chapter 1

Sniper was there when humanity fell. He was there when the Infected charged the last quarantine zone left, bashing into the gates until they gave way. He watched from the sidelines, cramming his lanky frame underneath a desk, peering through the window panes as the people he had come to know, the people he viewed as friends, died. Charging out and playing hero would just mean his death as well. So he watched.

Engineer had been the only one left from his team. The others had left the camp months ago. Sniper saw him walk out into the crowd of Infected, looking defeated, battered and hopeless. They swarmed him like children to a pinata. He never stood a chance. To this day, the memory still haunts him- he can only presume it was due to Pyro's death. Sniper never even knew their name.

He wanders the Earth alone, armed with as much protective gear as his body could support. Encumberment meant death. He hasn't seen another human since the quarantine zone was overrun, taking shelter in crows nests, putting a bullet in the head of whatever Infected were waiting to tackle him down below. Sniper had gotten his fair share of close encounters, heartbreaks, and hopelessness. The one that came to him most in his nightmares, whenever he got that brief little wink of sleep, would have to be a job he got in the quarantine zone.

A lady, around 5' even, dressed frivolously, had approached him. She had heard he was the kind of man you went to for things like this. Hands shaking, she reached into her clutch, and plucked out a slightly tattered-looking purse. The woman browsed through it briefly, before retrieving a polaroid, and handing it to him. Her only request was to make sure he didn't suffer any more.

Sniper hadn't even glimpsed at the polaroid, presuming it to be a family member of some sort. He nodded solemnly, promising the woman he would see to it her lost one was put to rest.

Later, when he had snuck out of the zone and made it to a safe place, he had pulled the photograph out of his vest pocket, inspecting it. He almost dropped it when he recognized the young boy, standing amongst a crowd of seven other boys and the woman who had given him the job. Buckteeth, scrawny-looking figure, and a metal bat clutched tightly in his hands.

He made a promise. To both Scout, and his mother. Sniper set out to complete the job.


	2. some awful god's afterlife

Sneaking past the Infected was easy. Locating his target wasn't too difficult. But now that he stood behind the man he once knew, tattered and pale, low noises of pain coming from him, he hesitated. He had killed the enemy Scout so many times, never even thought twice as he squeezed the trigger, watched the bullet fly straight between his eyes and his blue-clad form slump lifelessly to the ground. But now, here he was.

His sub machine gun. Quiet, but would still probably attract attention. Just a quick bullet in the head, that's all it would take. Sniper's hand began moving to his side, where the SMG was attached to his belt. He froze when Scout whipped around.

There was a wild look in those glassy eyes, one he didn't recognize from the usually upbeat, friendly boy. His hands were coated in a thick layer of blood, some of it looking fresh, dripping from his fingers and hitting the concrete ground beneath them like raindrops. He was poised to strike, to dash forward at any moment and sink his teeth into his colleague. But.. he didn't.

Sniper felt as if he was frozen, stuck in time as he watched Scout tremble in front of him, arms jittering. He didn't look like a predator, he looked like a cornered animal, trying to choose whether to fight or flee. Through fuzzy vision, Scout made out the man stood before him, stupid hat and all. Trying desperately to fight the Infection, to keep it at bay long enough to have control, it took everything in him to open his jaw and not surge forward. He barely recognized the voice that came from him, low and scratchy, wavering. "Snipes."

The hitman's breath hitched, coming out like steam from a sauna in the cold night air. "Roo," he began, hoping Scout could understand him through the gas mask that protected him from the deadly spores outside of the quarantine zone. "I don't know if that's you in there, or somethin' else, but.. ya mom wanted me to do this. And I'd imagine you would too." Sniper's words clicked in the boys mind, and he nodded his head with great effort.

He drew his SMG. Something in Scout snapped as soon as he was staring down the barrel of a weapon, that look in his eyes changing from hunted to hunter, rebounding off of the wall behind him and lunging for Sniper.

He pulled the trigger, closed his eyes as he did it. Heard Scout's body crumple to the floor, opened his eyes, nearly broke down then and there at the sight of the boy he had grown so fond of, talking the ear off of anybody who would listen. He was a good kid, Sniper knew that. Said he was sending home the money he got from the job, to his mother. Behind that egotistical blockade he had built up between himself and his team was a man of honor, of good deeds and graces. All he wanted at the end of the day was a laugh or two.

Body trembling, though he was absolutely certain it wasn't from the cold, he knelt down to prop the boy up against the wall and place the cap back on his head, firmly over the unkempt light brown hair. Sniper knew he had done the right thing. Scout was at peace now.

It was only a matter of time before the Infected reached him, signalled to his position by the gunshot. He glanced around the room, before pulling a dusty-looking white sheet from a nearby table that had been flipped onto its side, and placing it over the corpse. As he did, a can clattered to the floor, and against his better judgement of get-away-NOW, he looked it over in his hand.

A can of BONK! Atomic Punch. How ironic. Sniper laid it in front of the body, and bid him a silent farewell. As the Runners reached the boy's place of rest, the hitman was already gone, consoling himself as he sprinted through the derelict streets with the thought that if he too were to die, he and Scout would meet again in some awful God's afterlife.


End file.
